Today was one of those days where absolutely nothing went right. Problem after problem arose and demanded immediate attention. Everything that was out of whack was not my fault, yet it is my job to make it right. I try so hard to make everything run smoothly but I can only do so much. It is like a tag team. If the chain is weak somewhere, my customers only know that I have failed them.
I hate that.
It makes me want to fly away like a bird. To escape it all. To disappear.
To run away.
I'm not very good at running away. I first experimented with it in fifth grade. My best friend B.A. and I were going through a stage where we were walking downtown after school. She had to stay after school and wait for her Mom to pick her up after work. There was no day care back then, you know, when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Just us hanging out with the nuns helping to cleaning chalk boards. We eventually graduated to shop lifting and became very brazen about it. Our M.O. was to sashshay into the Five and Dime, grab one of their bags from under the counter, walk through the store and snatch, of all dull things, school supplies, tossing them into the bag!
When we finally got caught we decided it was better to run away than face our parents.
We began walking out of town down a country road. We must have walked for what seemed like miles when a car pulled over and rolled down their window and addressed us, "Have you seen B.A.? We are looking all over for her!"
Hell, no one looking for me. No one knew I had run away!
I don't remember much more of that episode. Except I got a good whooping.
Now I just head to the nearest library and submerge myself into one of my Great Escapes. I dream about getting another job and surf the internet and catch up on my Dream Job. Usually it is to join a charity organization such as CARE or UNITED WAY or THE CANCER SOCIETY. When I recover from my delusions of trying to save the world, I progress to wanting to see the world and envision myself as a Travel Writer.
Then my lunch break is over and back to the grind of making excuses and feeling helpless.
At least no one is going to whoop me.